


Toast

by Cordria



Category: Danny Phantom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 12:02:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21015470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cordria/pseuds/Cordria
Summary: Everything that can go wrong, will go wrong. Even if it's just the toast falling butter-side down. (originally posted to Fanfiction in 2009 as an 11-part story, posted here in 2019 in a condensed version. Not yet edited.)





	1. Parts 1-6

_ **Paulina** _

* * *

"I hate toast," Paulina grumbled, her father setting a plate in front of her. "Where is my Sayonara Pussycat cereal?" When he mumbled something about being out of cereal and that she would eat what he gave her, Paulina narrowed her eyes dangerously. "Only losers eat toast. I _want_ my cereal!" she complained loudly, pushing the plate of toast away from her.

The plate teetered on the edge of the table before slipping off the table and clattering to the floor. The toast fluttered down a few moments later, landing butter side down on the floor.

"I'm going to find something to eat on the way to school," Paulina said, ignoring the toast that was lying on the ground and the furious look on her father's face. She stormed out of the kitchen, barely remembering to grab her backpack on the way. Surely Star would have something edible...

As she pranced down the street in search of breakfast, Paulina paid little attention to what was happening around her, intent on picking what she would get to eat. Cars zipped by on the busy street, birds sang from the trees, and small puddles from last night's storm sparkled on the ground, all unnoticed by the popular teen. "Pancakes," she thought, knowing how much Star's family liked to cook. "Or waffles."

A car swerved too close to the sidewalk, its horn blaring. Paulina looked up, catching sight of Dash driving his new car and smiled. Just as she was about to wave, Dash's car hit a puddle, launching muddy water in her direction. Paulina gasped, but she didn't have time to move before being covered in cold rainwater.

"Nice look," Dash laughed, slowing down and arching an eyebrow. "I was going to offer you a ride, but you'll get my car all wet."

Paulina glared at him, her fists clenched tightly by her side. "Look at me! What if Phantom-"

Suddenly someone jostled her and Paulina felt a hot liquid splatter on her legs. She glanced down, staring in disbelief at the coffee soaking into her skirt. Her eyes slowly came up to focus on the man with an empty coffee cup in his hand, ignoring the sputtering apology from him and the insane laughter from Dash.

"You," she snarled, cutting off the man's rambling. "Idiota! This was a _designer skirt!_"

The man, blinking in startled surprise, took a few steps backwards. He mumbled another quick apology before edging around her and hurrying down the street.

Paulina bit back a scream as she turned back to the young man slumped over his steering wheel, shaking in laughter. She took a few steps forwards and reached out to grab the handle to the door, intending to secure herself a ride to Star's house. Walking down the street covered in coffee was not an option; Star would have something that she could change in to.

"Oh, hell no," Dash said, when he heard her pull on the locked handle. "You're not getting in looking like that." He rolled up the windows as Paulina reached for the lock, sneered at her for a moment, and smoothly pulled away from the curb.

"Estupido!" Paulina shouted after him, curling her neatly manicured fingernails around the strap of her backpack. "Now what." She looked around, trying to decide the best way to Star's house. After a moment, finally aware of all the cars zipping by seeing her dripping coffee and muddy water, Paulina moved. Keeping in the morning shadows next to the buildings, she hurried down the street, hoping that nobody important saw her. Especially not Phantom.

Just a block later, she slipped off the street and into the park, walking down the path. Star's home was just on the other side of the park. A new shirt, a pair of Star's designer jeans, and breakfast; it was almost more than Paulina could dream about.

"Hey! You want a cupcake?"

Paulina looked up at the voice, worried about someone seeing her, then her eyes widened in terror when she noticed that the pint-sized speaker was glowing and floating off the ground. "G-g-g-g…"

"It's my birthday," the cowboy-styled boy announced happily. "Do you want a cupcake? Did you bring me a present?"

"Ghost…" Paulina breathed. When the ghost didn't do anything but hold out a cupcake, the fear slowly drained away and her mouth dropped open, realizing that Phantom would be on this ghost's heels. Phantom would see her like this! "_GET AWAY FROM ME!"_ she screamed, backing away from the young ghost. She had to get out of there before Phantom showed up!

The young ghost pouted, trailing after her. "You didn't even bring me a little present?"

"No," Paulina snapped, picking up her pace. "Get away from me before Phantom shows up!"

She felt something splatter on her shirt and Paulina stopped dead, staring at the cupcake icing dripping down her shirt, then up at the young ghost that was loading another cupcake into his sling shot. "Don't mention Phantom, he won't play with me either."

"Of course he wouldn't play with you, Phantom loves _me_!" Paulina gingerly plucked the remains of the cupcake from her designer shirt. The shirt was probably ruin-

Another cupcake whapped into her lowered head, and Paulina slowly looked up, chocolate cake crumbles and icing dropping into her eyes. "Phantom will save me from this," she repeated, unable to think of anything worse than this.

The young ghost loaded a third cupcake into his slingshot and aimed it in Paulina's direction. The grin on the ghost's face chilled Paulina to the core and she finally took off running, kicking off her heels after a few steps, using her backpack as a shield as the ghost's seemingly endless supply of cupcakes rained down around her.

Paulina finally staggered up to Star's house, hanging on the doorbell until her startled friend pulled the door open. "Save me," Paulina cried, stumbling inside and slamming the door shut even as another cupcake whacked against the door.

* * *

_**Coach Teslaff**_

* * *

Marjorie Teslaff stalked into the teacher's lounge with a toaster under one arm and a loaf of bread under the other, fully intent on making a thick stack of toast for her post-breakfast snack. It only took a few moments for the machine to be plugged in and the bread toasting. "These kids really take a lot out of you," she grumbled.

The only other person in the room – a new math teacher Teslaff hadn't bothered to get to know – blinked at her in disbelief. "But school hasn't even started…"

"Doesn't matter. Listen to them in the hallways, convinced of their own teenage superiority. Most of them couldn't run a mile if they were being chased by killer bees." The slightest of smiles appeared on her stern face when her toast popped up perfectly browned and the young teacher could only stammer a confused response. "You'll get over that goody-two-shoes way of thinking before too long," she replied.

She evenly buttered her toast, stopping only to affectionately pat her toaster. "It's from Denmark," she sternly informed the teacher, who was hurriedly drinking the last of his coffee. "If you ignore the fact that it floats now and then, it makes the best toast."

"Great," the math teacher murmured, edging towards the door. "Have a… nice day." The door clicked open and he vanished into the bustling hallways.

Teslaff breathed heavily out through her nose, setting her buttered toast on one of the plastic plates and carrying it towards the dirty table, never noticing that the new teacher's coat had fallen to the ground in a forgotten pile. One foot stepped on a sleeve, the other got caught in a pocket, and Teslaff lost her balance. She tumbled to her hands and knees, her toast falling butter-side down just in front of her.

"No," she whispered in disbelief. "My toast!" She stared at the perfection lying on the grimy floor for a long moment, then levered herself to her feet and grabbed the other teacher's coat. With a snarl on her face, she stormed out of the lounge and into the hallways. "Where is he?"

A few of the students jumped and edged away from her, but Coach Teslaff ignored them in favor of heading towards the math classrooms. Students that didn't get out of her way fast enough were moved and not even the varsity players were safe from her warpath. That new teacher – whatever his name was – would pay for ruining her toast.

She was nearly to the math department when her well-tuned nose picked up the scent of food. Deciding she needed something to sustain her until she could track down the toast-ruining teacher and eek out some revenge, Teslaff's predatory eyes tracked towards a dark corner and snagged on a young kid holding a tray of cupcakes. "Perfect."

She had a cupcake in her hand before the kid could do more than yelp out a distressed, "Hey!" Cupcakes weren't high on her list – too much processed sugar – but they would do in a pinch. She took a large bite and continued on her way.

A kick to her leg brought her up short and she looked down at the cupcake-carrying kid. "That wasn't for you," he said, his green eyes almost glowing under his cowboy hat. "Give it back."

"Scram."

A furious look appeared on the boy's face and he kicked her again, this time hard enough for Teslaff to shout in pain. When she grabbed her abused leg, the boy pushed against her and she overturned, collapsing to the floor on her back. The half-eaten, stolen cupcake flew out of her hand, splattered on a cheerleader's shirt, and Miss Sanchez broke into tears.

Teslaff seethed, frustrated at the number of people who felt like they could defy her today, and pushed herself to her feet. The boy was nowhere to be seen. She glared around at the students, who were barely covering their snickering, and limped up the hallway with the jacket still in her hand. Now she would have to track down the boy after she dealt with the math teacher.

She hadn't even made it a dozen steps before someone broke out into laughter and shouted, "Look!" Her head jerked around and her mouth opened when she saw a whole parade of demonic things headed her way. They were making that spine-tingling noise, moving in that unnatural way, their slimy skin and limp appendages causing nightmares with every movement.

"Not again," she whimpered as the creatures, being chased by a half-dozen red-faced biology students, hopped past her. She closed her eyes and pictured herself someplace better – like standing next to the state football trophy.

Something cold and light landed on her foot. Teslaff's eyes popped up and she stared down at the frog, unable to hold back a scream. She batted at the monster with the jacket and kicked out with her foot. The creature landed on its back a few feet in front of her, its legs waving until it could right itself and make a break for freedom again. The crowd of students around her was shrieking with laughter, many of them falling to the ground or collapsing against lockers.

As she stood there, looking dumbfounded at how horrible her day had suddenly become, the new math teacher walked up behind her. "My coat, I was looking for that!" He took it from her limp hand. "Thanks." Unable to anything but stare, Marjorie Teslaff watched him step carefully over a frog and disappear into his classroom.

She limped back to the teacher's lounge, ignoring the announcement to help collect the escaped frogs, and reached for the loaf of bread. "I'll just make more toast," she murmured stoically, grabbing a few slices out of the bag and turning to her…

To her…

The toaster was gone. Her mouth dropping open in stunned disbelief, Coach Teslaff eyes drifted towards a newly-broken window. To top everything else off, her precious toaster had flown away.

* * *

_ **Valerie** _

* * *

"Today," the nasally teacher said, "we're making a working-class favorite: toast." The home skills class let out a quiet chuckle, but the teacher waved them down. "It's harder than it looks!" she primped, then muttered, "And, after the debacle from last year, the school board won't let you near ovens, stoves, knives, or almost anything _else_ without too much parent permission for it to be worth it. So deal."

Valerie Grey sighed and poked at her toaster dismally. "I can't stand this class," she murmured to herself, ignoring the teacher's directions and simply stuffing the bread in the slots. "I'd rather be doing anything else."

When the bread popped up, Valerie grabbed it and slathered on the butter with sharp jerks. "I'd rather be working," she muttered, pressing too hard with her plastic knife and ripping the toast. "I'd rather be in health class." The knife snapped in her hand, the leftover bits of butter tumbling to the floor, and Valerie scowled. "I'd rather be in _math class!_" With that, she tossed the bread roughly towards the plastic plate, uncaring when it overshot the counter and splattered, butter-side down, on the floor.

She buried her head in her arms, hearing an odd clunking noise but ignoring it. "Watch out with that plastic knife," the teacher warned one of the students next to Valerie. "I swear. A few missing fingers one time and the whole school comes down on you."

Valerie felt the teacher's hand touch her shoulder. "Valerie, dear, your hair is in your toaster. Not a good place for it. And your toast is burning."

"My toast is on the floor," she mumbled into the table, then gave a start and bolted upright. The clunk she had heard earlier was her toaster resetting; the smoke her teacher had seen wasn't _toast _burning… When her hair came out of the toaster, smoking and filling the room with an awful stench, Valerie yelped, "My hair's on fire!"

Her cooking partner, Nathan, jumped to his feet. Valerie was already moving towards the sink, but Nathan was too busy overreacting to notice. "I don't know where the fire extinguisher is!" he screamed, rushing away even as Valerie twisted the knob and held the smoldering clump of hair under the stream of water.

She studied the hair, ignoring the way her partner was running towards her with something in his hands. She'd have to get a haircut for sure, but it wasn't that-

Something lukewarm and oily suddenly poured over her head. Valerie gasped, breathing in a mouthful of liquid butter and coughing it out painfully. Her hair was dripping butter and her clothes were drenched in the smelly liquid. Turning around slowly, she glared at the red-haired boy holding a large, empty bottle in his hands.

"I saved you," Nathan enthused into the complete silence of the classroom. "Now you'll have to go to prom-"

"Never. In. A. Million. Years," she ground out. When Nathan's eyes switched from ecstatic to startled, she continued. "You covered me in butter, you moron!"

"But… but… your hair…"

"Was already out!" Valerie took a menacing step forwards, Nathan taking an uncertain step backwards. "Look at me!"

His eyes skittered down to her shirt and back up. "You look… tasty?"

Valerie snarled and launched herself at Nathan, but the butter that had been dripping from her hair had pooled on the ground beneath her feet. Her shoes were unable to gain any traction on the slick tiles and Valerie's calculated dive turned into a comedic banana-peel routine. Her arms pin-wheeled for a moment, unable to catch her balance, and she crashed to the floor.

"Are you alright?" her teacher asked, appearing next to her and crouching down. "How's your hair?"

Valerie slumped a little. "I'm going to go get cleaned up," she muttered. Carefully finding her balance, she got to her feet and walked carefully out of the classroom, the butter on the soles of her shoes making every step slick.

"Well, that was fun," the teacher said as the door closed. "And let's not tell the principal, shall we? Otherwise I won't even have toasters anymore."

Making her way towards her locker to grab her gym clothes, Valerie muttered to herself about how much she hated cooking class. It didn't help that her job had her smelling like grease all the time, and with this on top of it? Stupid Nathan with his stupid prom and his stupid hair and-

"Hi!"

Startled out of her reverie, Valerie's shoes suddenly slipped and she landed on her knees. She looked up into a young boy's face, noting the smile and the cowboy hat even as the boy pushed an abused-looking cupcake towards her.

"It's my birthday, want a cupcake?" he asked.

"I'm covered in butter, kid. I don't want to eat anything right now." Valerie grabbed onto the lockers and levered herself cautiously back onto her feet. "Maybe later."

The kid's face fell a little, but he nodded and then brightened again. "Want to know what I got for my birthday?"

"No," Valerie said shortly, heading down the hallway. Her locker was just around the corner. With a semi-fresh change of clothes and the gym showers, she'd be able to make it until lunch. Then she could run home for some real clothes and shampoo.

"You're no better than Phantom," the boy muttered under his breath. "I sure blew my wish this year."

Turning around as quickly as she could, Valerie stared at the boy, a tense excitement growing inside of her. "You've seen the ghost-kid?"

In the exact same tone Valerie had used moments earlier, the kid said, "No," and stormed off.

"Wait!" she called out. "The ghost-kid is dangerous!" But the boy never stopped, rounding a corner and vanishing out of view. With a sour sigh, Valerie turned and headed towards her locker.

Just as she rounded the corner, something shiny and toaster-shaped came barreling down the hallway and slammed into the back of her head. Even as she slipped into a buttery unconsciousness, Valerie couldn't help but wonder why there was a flying toaster in school.

* * *

_**The 13s**_

* * *

Far away from the chaotic happenings at the school, toast was burning. "You're not doing it right," an echoing female voice scolded.

"Back off, sweets. I'm a gor-meet cook."

"It's gor-may," the green-haired female corrected sourly. "Have you ever even _seen_ toast before?"

Johnny 13 brushed a hand through his greasy hair and grinned in triumph when the burned toast popped up. Ignoring the smoke, he grabbed it and started to glop on a thick layer of glowing, greenish butter. "See?" he pronounced, holding it out for his girlfriend's inspection. "The finest breakfast this side of Walker's prison."

Kitty wasn't impressed. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot, a scowl on her face. "We're not going to be able to go to _the thing_ with Youngblood if our toast looks like that. Maybe we need a new toaster."

Both looked down at the jumped-together toaster just as Shadow appeared, flying towards them with a cackle. It bumped into Johnny as it melded back into a normal-seeming shadow, knocking the plate of toast out of Johnny's hands. Before any of the ghosts could react, the toast landed on the ground, butter-side down.

"Great," Kitty sighed.

Johnny stooped down to pick it up and brush off the bits of dirt, but the damage had been done. Even as he settled the dropped toast back on the plate and examined it for flaws, the bad-luck ghost's luck was turning.

Not that he paid any attention.

Finally wrinkling his nose and deciding that the toast was a goner, Johnny tossed the burned bread over his shoulder and selected a few new pieces. "I can do this," he muttered, carefully slotting the bread into the toaster and depressing the lever. He settled down on the ground and propped his chin on his hand, carefully studying the toaster as it started to glow a sickly red.

The bread he had tossed over his shoulder tumbled through the ghostly air to land – butter-side down – on the top of Skulker's head. The hunter ghost yanked the toast off his head and crumbled it into dust, glaring upwards. Trackers and scanners activated throughout the robotic creature, fixing on the culprits, as Skulker's eyes lit up in excitement. "Ah... a new hunt!"

"I still don't think you're doing it right," Kitty muttered.

"There ain't any other way to make toast," Johnny grumbled. "Just wait a minute."

Johnny was so fixated on the toaster that he never noticed the short-range missile streaking towards them. Kitty noticed just as it sliced past her to slam into the tub of greenish butter, splattering the two of them in glowing grease. Sputtering and wiping off her shirt, Kitty turned towards Skulker with wide eyes, then glanced back at Johnny, wondering if he'd protect her. "Johnny…?"

The other ghost was dripping butter, but seemed to not care what had happened and never looked up. "Just _wait_, Kitten," he complained. "It's almost done - I promise."

Kitty took a few steps towards him, but Skulker landed on the ground between the two ghosts, his rockets almost silent and a scowl on his face. "You hit me with toast."

"Sorry," Kitty said, backing up a little and trying to peer past the hunter. Johnny wasn't paying any attention. "But I didn't..."

"You'll look great as a new throw rug." Skulker raised his arm, a small weapon appearing and whining as it charged. "Hold still."

Kitty blinked, then backed up a few more steps. "I… But…"

The blast caught her off guard, the whine screaming in her ears as the weapon fired. The smell of burnt butter surrounded her, making her gag as she scrambled away from the hunter. Skulker followed, his scowl turning into a grin as he got into the excitement of the hunt and reset his weapon. "Run, prey. Run."

Kitty dodged another blast, grabbing hold of the handlebars of Johnny's motorcycle and fumbling with the key. "Johnny!" she screamed, ducking a third blast, then the motorcycle revved to life.

The greasy-haired ghost boy just sat and stared at his toaster, seemingly unaware of his surroundings.

With a roar, the motorcycle jumped forwards, jerking Kitty along for the ride. She clung to the motorcycle as it veered wildly through the abyss of the ghost zone, Skulker close on her tail the entire way. Narrowly avoiding a huge boulder, she shrieked and closed her eyes. "JOHNNY!"

Skulker chuckled and set up one of his larger missiles, aiming for the roaring motorcycle. When his suit beeped, the tracker locked, Skulker shot the motorcycle out from under Kitty's body.

"NO!" Kitty screamed as Johnny's motorcycle vanished in a huge explosion, sending her tumbling through the emptiness. She barely managed to catch her balance in the air before a metallic hand clamped around her ankle and levered her upside down.

Skulker ignored his squirming prey, never feeling Kitty's hands slamming into his legs, uncaring about her screams for help. He had his trophy – not that it had been a long hunt – and now he could bring her back and turn her into that throw rug he'd been wanting.

Only… the greasy, globbed-on butter from the toast that had hit him finally wormed its way through the cracks in his robot heat, oozed past the gears and wires, and fizzled against an important processing unit. With a sharp sizzle, the entire right side of Skulker's robotic body stopped responding to commands.

The hand that was holding Kitty in the air loosened and, before Kitty could react, she was falling through the air again. "Johnny!" she yelped, unable to stop her fall before she was sucked into the infamous Infinite Vortex of Pain.

Skulker scowled inside his suit, but before he could restore power, his entire suit quit working. The rockets went out with an audible pop and Skulker followed Kitty into the vortex, cursing loudly inside his suit.

Back on the floating bit of rock, Johnny 13 finally looked up, grinning widely as the blackened crisps came out of the old toaster. "Ha!" he said, holding up the charcoal in triumph. "Perfection!"

Then he looked around. "Kitty? Where are you? And_ where's my motorcycle?!_"

* * *

_**Jazz**_

* * *

Jazz Fenton had come to expect a lot of things from gym – but one thing she never thought she'd be doing was making toast for her crankier-than-usual gym teacher. Tugging uncomfortably at her short gym shorts and carefully balancing the toast she'd gotten from cafeteria, Jazz hurried through the hallways towards Mrs. Teslaff's office. She turned around a corner and skidded to a stop, staring for a moment in surprise at the sight of a buttery Valerie Grey lying unconscious on the floor with a bright red spot on her forehead.

"Valerie!" she yelped, dropping the plate and kneeling next to her brother's friend. Her gym teacher's toast fluttered lightly to the ground, landing butter-side down on the floor next to the comatose girl. "Valerie?" Jazz quickly checked to see if Valerie was breathing, then yelled for help, her voice cracking anxiously.

Jazz had been hoping for a teacher, but instead a boy in a cowboy hat appeared beside her, peering down at the unconscious girl. "Is she okay?" he asked, concern in his voice.

"No. Go get a teacher for me," Jazz asked quickly, trying to get Valerie to wake up. "Please."

The green-eyed boy looked up at her, tipping his hat back a little. "It's my birthday today," he informed her. "I shouldn't have to do anything on my birthday."

"She's hurt," Jazz pleaded, barely allowing her mind to settle on the idea that the boy looked familiar before going back to worrying about Valerie. "Go get help."

"Fine. But you can't come to my party."

Jazz nodded distantly, barely noticing when the boy vanished from her side, because Valerie chose that moment to groan her way back to consciousness. "Valerie," she said softly, leaning over the younger girl. "Hold still."

Val's eyes flickered open and she gazed dazedly up at Jazz. "Toasters," she whispered. "I think I got hit by a flying toaster."

"Okay," Jazz agreed faintly, worried that Valerie had suffered some sort of head injury and was babbling nonsense. "Just wait. The nurse is coming."

A hand touched her shoulder and Jazz moved out of the way, letting several teachers take over examining the younger teenager. They asked Val several questions before the nurse hurried down the hallway, Valerie insisting that she had been hit by something that resembled a flying toaster.

A few minutes later, Jazz watched Valerie be led away to the nurse's station. She picked up the fallen plate and toast, her hands still shaking slightly from the adrenaline rush, and examined the trampled bread with a sigh. Although she was still working to wrap her mind around what had just happened, Jazz knew that the toast was a goner – she'd have to get more.

Walking over to the water fountain, she tossed the toast into the small garbage bin and leaned down to grab a much-needed drink. This was one of those moments when she wished she was more like her brother. He could handle anything and not be fazed by it. She, on the other hand, couldn't even handle _this _well. Jazz pressed down on the button and opened her mouth, waiting for the refreshing water to cascade into her mouth.

Nothing.

She blinked a few times and studied the ancient water fountain for a moment before jamming down on the button harder. Still nothing. "Figures," she muttered, straightening and mentally cursing the old school.

Before she could turn around to leave, the water fountain gurgled. Jazz's forehead wrinkled at the sound and she hesitated, gazing at the silvery fixture. It gurgled again, louder. It was a noise unlike Jazz had heard before. She leaned forwards, trying to hear better, trying to identify what the sound could-

Water exploded out of the fountain, spraying straight into Jazz's unsuspecting face. She gasped, choked, and stumbled backwards, water dripping into her eyes, coughing helplessly. The fountain simply gave a satisfied glug and the water stopped spraying into the air.

It was too late for Jazz, however. Momentarily blinded by the sharp spray of water into her eyes, her back hit the wall on the other side of the hallway. She wiped at her eyes and pushed some of her dripping hair off her forehead. "Gah," she said, spluttering at the water in her nose and reaching out to the wall to steady herself.

Her hand gripped at the wall, shaking her head to clear it. "That was fun," she muttered sourly, glancing around the deserted hallway. The cold water was seeping through her thin gym clothes.

She took a deep breath. "Toast," she said, focusing on the reason she'd been sent out of class. Get the toast, then get out of her wet clothes. Teslaff would _have_ to give her the hour off after all this, and she'd be able to process through what had happened to Valerie.

Spotting the dropped plate in a small puddle of water, Jazz stepped forwards to grab it, but her foot slipped on the floor. Her eyes widened and her hand instinctively went back to the wall to stop her fall. Fingers gripped at a small outcropping, momentarily supporting her weight before giving way.

Something sticky and smelly sprayed over her hand and splattered onto her face, followed seconds later by the blaring of the fire alarms. Jazz collapsed to the floor, kneeling in the puddle of cool water, staring at the red paint covering her hand in faint disbelief. She bit her lower lip, then sputtered at the foul taste of some of the paint that had sprayed on her face.

All up and down the hallways, students were gathering outside of their classrooms to stare at the red-sprayed teenager slumped in the hallway in a pool of water. When people finally started to realize some of what was going on, chuckles started. Despite the teachers herding people outside, students paused to gawk, laugh, and roll their eyes.

"Miss Fenton," came a very recognizable voice.

Jazz winced and looked up into Mr. Lancer's disbelieving eyes. "Hi," she managed over the ear-shattering fire alarms.

"What in _Peter Pan_'s name is going on here?"

* * *

_**Lunch Detention (omake)**_

* * *

There was some discussion as to whether it would be considered 'lunch detention' or if it was simply a place to put people that wouldn't eat lunch with everyone else. Paulina had managed to get herself covered in icing again, had been forced to accept some of the extra school clothes to wear for the day, and now refused to be seen by anyone. Valerie was still nursing the spot on her head, wearing a second set of the nurse's spare clothes, and smelt so strongly of butter that nobody would sit in the same room as her. Jazz was dry, finally, but the red speckles of paint still on her face and covering her hand and arm never failed to start back up a round of uncontrollable laughter. Coach Teslaff's bad temper – and the fact that her toaster had broken a window – had made her the perfect 'volunteer' to supervise the three girls and stay away from the other teachers.

"I want to go home," Valerie murmured, ignoring the food sitting in front of her in favor of burying her head in her arms. The buttery scent hanging around her wasn't helping her appetite and the idea of actually eating something was turning her stomach.

"I want my clothes back," Paulina added darkly. She folded her arms furiously over the oversized T-shirt and scowled. "And I never want to see another cupcake again."

Jazz shook her head and quietly picked up one of her chicken strips, ignoring the sting of her fiercely scrubbed skin… which was still stained red despite her best efforts. "It's just one of those days."

Teslaff simply snorted and dug into her plate full of chicken, quietly debating how long to make the freshman run laps the next hour. She was still sour over the loss of her toaster and the fact that even sending Miss Perfect to get more toast had failed so miserably. She was currently thinking most of the hour sounded like a good amount of running.

"I can't believe you just said that," Valerie said. "This is possibly the worst day on record, and… 'it's just one of those days'? Seriously?

Jazz smiled faintly and took a large bite of her food.

"You all had it easy," Paulina added, her eyes narrowing slightly. "I've been attacked by cupcakes _three times_ today!"

Teslaff looked up from her food. She wasn't normally a person to get pulled into annoying teenage conversations, but the laughable idea that these weaklings had worse days than her was something needing correcting. "Easy? My toaster flew away this morning and I couldn't get any toast when I got hungry-"

"_I tried,_" Jazz interrupted, gesturing with her hand.

"I know," Teslaff muttered. "We all heard the fire alarm."

Jazz felt her temper flare – something that rarely happened. "It wouldn't have happened if you hadn't sent me out to get some stupid toast for you!" she snapped at the teacher, then instantly flushed red and started to stammer out an apology.

"I had toast this morning too," Paulina added slowly.

"And how does that matter?" Valerie said sourly, then laughed. "Do you know why I smell like butter? I was making toast in home economics and _Nathan_ decided to dump butter all over me!" She hesitated, blinked a few times, and turned her attention to the gym teacher, wrinkling her forehead in thought. "After which I was hit in the head by a flying toaster."

Teslaff looked up at the mention of her toaster. "Did you see which way it went?"

Paulina glared at Valerie, ignoring the teacher's question. "Why would I care what happened to you? You're not rich or popular anymore."

"Yeah? Want to come over here and I'll show you 'rich and popular'?" Valerie retorted.

"Isn't it kind of funny though?" Jazz said, thinking aloud and disrupting the intense staring between the other two teenage girls. "We all had toast and we all ended up in here."

Val snorted, turning away from Paulina and crossing her arms. "Yeah. Toast. Let's blame the toast. Next you'll be telling me we should blame that little kid in the cowboy hat."

"I saw that kid…" Jazz trailed off.

Coach Teslaff looked up from her food. "The kid with the cupcakes?"

"_Don't mention cupcakes!"_ Paulina screeched, jumping to her feet. "Never again. Ever. And he isn't some kid, he's a ghost."

"A ghost?" the other two girls parroted in surprise.

Paulina sniffed. "Yes. And my Phantom didn't rescue me."

Valerie and Jazz exchanged a glance. "Are you sure he was a ghost?" At Paulina's annoyed stare, Jazz bit into her french fry and shook her head. "He was a human boy when I saw him. I know it."

"He was a human when I saw him," Valerie agreed.

"He wasn't human," Paulina said, sinking back down into her chair and picking at her food. "He was that ghost with the pirate ship, only now he's a cowboy."

Jazz straightened. "Youngblood?"

"Why would I know a ghost's name other than my precious ghost boy's?" Paulina muttered darkly, turning away from them and staring out the window.

Silence fell in the room, broken only by the sound of Teslaff chewing through her chicken strips. "Speaking of Phantom," Valerie said slowly, "not that I really want to, but it does raise the question…"

Jazz nodded, picking up on the thought. "If there _is_ a ghost behind all of this bad luck, where is he?"


	2. Parts 7-11

_ **Dash** _

* * *

Dash was fully aware that the girls in his school were having a horrible day. The knowledge that only females were being 'targeted' hadn't passed by his sharp mind uncaught, but he was confident that he was in the clear. He wasn't a girl… teddy bear fetish not withstanding.

In fact, Dash had been one of the instigators of a lot of the mess. He was behind the hilarious 'Jazz Fent_red_' nickname and quite a bit of the teasing thrown in Valerie and Paulina's direction. The snickered idea that Val had fallen so far down the popularity ladder that she had to _butter up_ to someone as low as Nathan to get a date hadn't been his idea originally, but he was more than willing to take credit for it and spread it around it like was going out of style. Although, he conceded with a wince, he was never going to call Paulina 'cupcake' ever again.

Paulina could be very scary when she wanted to be.

Finishing tying his shoes for football practice, Dash stood up and stretched. The team was working well today, the coach was in a horrible mood – which was good for football, in Dash's mind – and the sun was shining. A rather satisfied grin settling onto his face, Dash reached down for his daily pre-practice snack. It was important to keep his energy levels up.

The daily toast snack was one of his more secret vices. Two slices, toasted to perfection in his Paddington Bear toaster early that morning, slathered with creamy peanut butter, and put carefully sticky-side together in a container to keep them from getting squished… it was more than he could imagine as heaven. He could almost – _almost_ – understand Coach Teslaff's obsession with the food.

Peeling the two slices apart, he licked his lips, brought the delicacy to his lips, and took a huge bite. His taste buds exploded at the wonderful taste. "This is-"

A sudden push against his lower back threw Dash's balance off. He tried to take a small step forwards, but the bench was in the way. Arms pinwheeling a little, he tipped and fell forwards, catching himself with his hands…

And letting his toast drop, peanut butter side down, into the dirt.

"Dang it!" he snarled, instantly getting back on his feet and turning around to glare at his opponent. "I'm going to kill…" He trailed off and blinked once when he didn't see anyone there. Glancing around, his forehead wrinkled in confusion.

"I said," came an annoyed voice from outside of Dash's view, "don't ignore me."

Dash finally looked down. A boy with brilliant green eyes and a cowboy hat was glaring up at him. Dash stared at him in confusion. "What?"

"Nobody's going to ignore me today," the boy informed him. "It's my birthday and I wished for it."

"You pushed me," Dash said slowly, fitting two and two together.

The boy's eyes narrowed. "So?"

Dash took a quick step forwards and yanked the boy off the ground, holding him up by the front of his cowboy-styled shirt. Yelping in surprise, the boy grabbed Dash's hands and squirmed a moment before his eyes widened in fear. "You made me drop my toast," Dash said furiously. "You're going to pay for that."

"_Baxter!"_ the coach called. "Get in here!"

Dash hesitated, looking from the field to the boy staring up at him in terror, then back to the field. "Fine," he snarled, dropping the cowboy to the ground. "You got lucky, kid."

With that, he twisted around on his heel and stormed onto the field, never looking back at the small kid – one who was a little too human to be a ghost, but not quite human enough to be truly human – and never noticing how the boy was staring at his hands in horror. Not that he'd have understood what was going on with the young ghost anyways, and Dash was soon far too busy to even remember his short encounter with the boy.

The football hit his hands and Dash took a few steps backwards, struggling to make out the sight of the wide receiver he was supposed to be hitting. For a moment all he could make out were helmets and bodies then, just for a moment, he saw Kwan in the distance. Before he could throw, he was slammed hard by one of the players. Stars flared and Dash dropped heavily to the ground.

"How many fingers?" someone asked, holding out a hand which – had Dash bothered to count – seemed to have eight fingers growing out of it.

"Four," Dash groaned, because that was the right answer rather than the correct one, and tried to push himself to his feet. When it became obvious he could barely catch his balance without someone holding him upright, the coach shook his head and sent Dash in the direction of the bench.

Dash stumbled towards the bench, barely keeping track of the world around him for the moment, aiming in the general direction of the water cooler. He was thirsty – perhaps a drink of water would help the world settle around him.

He was only a few feet away when he looked up and actually focused. The boy with the cowboy gear was standing by the water barrel with a wicked grin on his face. "Nobody messes with Youngblood," he said cockily. "Powers or not."

Only halfway through comprehending what the boy had said, Dash wasn't with it enough to move when Youngblood pushing against the water cooler and sending it tumbling to the ground. Dash could do nothing but fuzzily watch as the cooler top popped off and gallons of water cascaded to the dirt, almost instantly turning the bench area into a mud pit, and never even thought of reacting as the deceptively heavy barrel came rolling in his direction.

The cooler slammed into Dash's barely balanced body and sent him crashing back to the ground. His head – no longer protected by a helmet – hit the ground hard enough for the world to go black for a moment. Cold, muddy water was seeping into his clothes, his head was pounding, and Dash was suddenly not entirely sure why he was lying on the ground.

Four football helmets appeared over him and Dash blinked groggily as all four teammates pulled off the helmets as one and Kwan's face stared down at him from four different places.

Kwan laughed and grinned down at his dazed teammate. "Dash, you went splash."

Grabbing a handful of grassy mud, Dash threw it in one of the Kwan's direction. Then he sank back to the ground and groaned. Maybe he shouldn't have teased the girls so much.

* * *

_**Lunch Lady**_

* * *

If there was one creature in either world that would have understood the power of toast, it was the ghost of the old lunch lady. She knew every food-based fable and the idea of bad luck coming from fallen-down toast wasn't something new to her. She knew that she was far from immune to its effects.

Thus, when she was haunting the kitchen of the new downtown bistro and accidentally bumped a plate of toast and fruit sitting precariously on the counter, she was rightfully worried. She could do nothing but watch, red eyes widening, as the bread fluttered to the floor, butter-side down.

Her transparent fingers fluttered anxiously over the fallen toast, eyes flicking from side to side, waiting for the torment to begin. "No, no, no," she whispered. "Not today. Not today."

Decades of food-based lore were crammed into her head and she desperately searched through it all, trying to find some sort of bad luck counter. Her hands grabbed at the saltshaker to toss some over her shoulder in an attempt to chase away the bad luck, but she was so nervous that her fingers passed straight through the shaker.

The second try, she got a pinch of the salt and hurriedly scattered it over her shoulder, picked up the fallen toast, and set it carefully back on the counter. She patted the toast a few times before hurrying away from the small restaurant and slipped as quickly through the nearby wall as she could.

"Bad, bad, bad," she whispered as she raced towards the one place she thought was her sanctuary – the local high school cafeteria. She would never make it, but at least she was going in the right direction when she ran into the very ghost she had originally come to the human world to look for.

Or, at least, he used to be a ghost. "Youngblood," she said, a small smile appearing on her face. Her worries over her oncoming bad luck momentarily vanished from her mind, replaced by the incessant need to make sure the children around her had been fed properly.

"Good afternoon," she said cheerfully as she landed on the ground in front of the young boy, brandishing a cookie in her hand. "Would you like an afternoon snack?"

The cowboy-dressed child blinked at her with eyes that were frighteningly human. "Sure." He grabbed the cookie and chomped on it. "It's my birthday today."

The old lunch lady nodded pleasantly. Now that the child had been fed, her mind was free to return to what it had previously been contemplating. "Yes, I know," she told him. "I came for the…" she trailed off as she suddenly remembered the toast fiasco, her face becoming even paler than normal.

Her memory of what had happened was so strong that she could still smell the butter but, strangely, not the crisp scent of the toast. "Do you smell butter?" Youngblood asked, his forehead wrinkling.

"_Get away from that boy!"_ came a shout. Both ghosts looked up as the red huntress – trailing the strong scent of butter for some reason – swooped down out of the sky with her blasters pointed at the lunch lady.

Old instincts instantly jumped into play. Another cookie appeared in her hand and she held it out to the oncoming teenager. "Cookie?"

The red huntress didn't even bother to reply. The gingersnap was shot out of the lunch lady's hand with a well-aimed blast of red and the ground was peppered with small explosions. Taken aback for a moment, the older ghost just blinked up at the huntress. Rage built up and boiled over. "Then _perish!_"

"But my present-" Youngblood started, but his voice was suddenly cut off as a hand covered in a silvery-white glove appeared through a wall and jerked the boy to safety just as one of Valerie's missiles exploded where he'd been standing.

The old lunch lady wasn't nearly as lucky. A few bits of masonry tumbled down onto her head, momentarily stunning her and ripping that tenuous bit of rage from her mind. "Ha, hold still," the huntress cheered.

Following that particular order wasn't on the lunch lady's menu. Her food-based energy flowed into the cart of a hot dog vendor, the small sausages jumping to her command and forming a shield in front of her.

The huntress slammed attack after attack into the faithful sausages, sending little bits of meat flying in every direction. Knowing she was low on time, the lunch lady's eyes darted around, searching for a solution. The answer arrived with its normal heroic theme song.

The ice cream man.

Ice cream wasn't her normal element, but the ghost of the old lunch lady knew how to use ice cream to her advantage. She threw the remains of the hot dogs towards the huntress as a distraction and darted towards the white ice cream truck, phasing cleanly through the sides and examining the contents.

Even as the driver slammed on the breaks and fled his truck, she was chuckling happily. She raised her hands, the ice cream flowing to her will, hundreds of popsicles and ice cream cones springing to life, growing sharp teeth, and milk chocolate eyes.

The lunch lady looked up through the windshield at the huntress, who was aiming some large contraption at the truck. "_Perish_," she said angrily, pointing towards the red-clad teenager, the ice cream surging forwards at her command.

But the huntress fired at the same time.

Barely a blink later and the truck of ice cream exploded. Gallons of flavored, frozen cream went in every direction, covering the streets, the people still on them, and the two fighters.

Still covered from head to toe in ice cream, the lunch lady walked away from the screaming huntress, her head hanging low. Her poor hot dogs. Her poor ice cream, doomed to melt. Before she could fully extricate herself from the ice cream, she heard the distinct whine of the huntress's weapons charging.

Suddenly, she caught a flash of emerald and then felt the swirling vortex of Phantom's Thermos catch hold of her. And for once, she was almost grateful.

* * *

_ **Lancer** _

* * *

If there was one part of the day Mr. Lancer liked better than any other, it was the _end_ of the day. The students had long gone home, the teachers had filed out, and the school was his. Even better, after a long hour with a broom and the help of two students from detention, he had finally managed to corner the rogue toaster in the health room. For once, his knot-tying skills came in handy as he carted the thing back to his office and tied it down tightly.

Two extension cords and some appropriated bread later, Lancer was getting a first-hand glimpse of the difference between toast from a normal toaster and toast from a Denmark toaster. He balanced the golden, buttered perfection on his desk and almost – _almost_ – forgave Teslaff for bringing a not-up-to-fire-code appliance to school.

He took a bite of the first slice, digging into his mound of tests to correct. Slowly working his way through them, Lancer took small bites of his toast and was well into the second class's tests before he had to reach for his second slice. He misjudged his reach, however, and knocked against the plate. The toast tumbled to the ground, butter-side down.

Lancer swore softly before he remembered he was still at school, albeit with nobody around, and he turned a little red as he reached down and grabbed his toast. He picked off a few hairs and bits of dirt, then shrugged and took a bite, settling back into his test grading.

It was some time later – he'd just finished grading Mr. Get-Up-And-Leave-Whenever-He-Feels-Like-It Fenton's from fourth period – when he heard an odd sound from next door. He looked up, then decided to ignore it. Maybe there was a teacher still hanging around. Next door was the supply room, after all; teachers did have a reason to be in it.

When the sounds continued to come, however, Lancer ended up putting down his tests and staring at the wall. It _sounded_ like whoever was in there was dumping things on the ground, flinging things against walls, and making a humongous mess. No teacher would ever do that…

But what if it were a student?

It was that thought that finally got Lancer out of his chair and out the door, headed towards the supply room with thunder in his steps and fire in his eyes. Whoever was choosing to vandalize the school would regret it. He wrenched open the door and stormed inside.

An opened bottle of white glue connected with his chest, the sticky ooze dribbling down his shirt. Lancer glanced down, then looked up to find the culprit, stunned at the disaster. Supplies were everywhere: pencils and paperclips scattered like snow, a pair of scissors or two lodged in the walls, and a flutter of pushpins cascading from the ceiling like rain.

The steady stream of pushpins was what ultimately made him look up. A figure was sitting on top of the shelves, slowly emptying out boxes of pins. "_Annabelle Lee_, what do you think you're doing?"

It wasn't until the figure looked up from his stack of emptied boxes that Lancer finally noticed the glowing, blue skin. The two men looked at each other for a moment, then the ghost raised his hands. "BEWARE!" he screamed.

Lancer screamed right back, but his was in fear. He backed up a step, slamming his back against one of the shelves. It collapsed, sending all of it's de-boxed supplies raining down on his head. About a dozen bottles of rubber cement – lids off, for some reason – dumped their contents on him, followed by a huge bottle of whiteout refill.

Rubbing white paint out of his eyes and spitting rubber cement out of his mouth, Lancer struggled to find the door to get out. He was more than prepared to deal with a vandalizing student – but a vandalizing ghost? This required the cavalry.

Mostly blind, the teacher tripped over something and went tumbling to the ground. When he stood up, the paperclips, pencils, and other things he'd fallen into were stuck to him like a porcupine. And he had more than one pushpin digging through his clothes into his skin.

He sputtered a little and finally got his stinging eyes open, but that was when he noticed the ghost. The ghost had left his shelf and was now floating right in front of him. Frozen for a moment in fear, Lancer watched as the ghost grabbed a post-it note from the box he was carrying, reached out, and stuck it to the teacher's forehead.

That was more than Lancer could take. He scrambled for the door and wrenched it open, racing through the school and screaming his head off. All the while, the blue-skinned ghost followed, almost artistically sticking post-it notes on the overweight teacher's head like yellow hair.

When Lancer stumbled out the door of the school, his face pale and his eyes wide, he had no intention of stopping. But he had to skid to a sudden stop when two kids appeared in his way.

They turned to stare at him, a look of amazement on their faces. The younger one with the cowboy hat started to snicker. The girl, a bit older but dressed in clothes that were ragged and dirty, whapped the back of the boy's head and said, "That's not nice."

The teacher looked over his shoulder, relieved to find that the ghost was gone. He turned back to the kids, intending to shoo them away from the ghost-infested school, but a glow appeared in the street behind the two kids. The ghost, blue and terrifying, slowly rose out of the ground and raised his arms menacingly. "Beware!" he shouted.

And Lancer did. Unable to take anymore, he collapsed in a dead faint to the sound both kids doubling over in laughter and the ghost shouting about his dominion over boxes.

* * *

_ **Maddie and Jack** _

* * *

"I love toast," Jack said happily, staring down into the Jack Fenton Toaster as it gently toasted a piece of Jack Fenton-shaped bread. There was nothing better in the world than Jack Fenton Toast with Jack Fenton Butter (Jack Fenton flavor, of course, it was his favorite) spread all over it.

Perhaps a bit egotistical? Unfortunately, Jack couldn't even spell the word, much less define what it meant, so Jack figured it was simply how life worked. The universe spun crazily and Jack Fenton stood right in the middle of it.

As his toast popped up and Jack grabbed his favorite butter knife, his wife smiled a little and did her best not to roll her eyes. She loved Jack, she really did, but there were days where the endless 'Fentonizing' of everything got on her nerves. Turning away from him, Maddie started to fiddle with the dishwasher. She never saw Jack pick up his toast and start buttering it only to burn his fingers with a yelp and drop the half-buttered bread to the floor.

She wasn't watching it land butter-side down, but it didn't matter. The deed was done and wheels had been set in motion.

"Jack?" she said, twisting around at Jack's yelp. "Are you-"

She was cut off in mid-sentence as the ghost alarm started to blare. "GHOST!" Jack bellowed, knocking over his chair as he got to his feet and pulling an ectogun out of one of his pockets.

"You don't have to scream," came a sour voice. They looked up, blinking at the ghost floating in the corner. "I, Technus 2.0, Master of All-" The greenish ghost broke off as Jack blew a hole in the ceiling. "Hey!"

"I agree with him, your monologues are boring," another voice muttered. Maddie spun to face the new ghost, a female with a guitar slung over its shoulder, and grabbed for one of the weapons in the kitchen junk drawer. "Where's the Dipstick?" the ghost continued, uncaringly slouched against the door jam.

Jack got off another blast towards Technus just as Maddie closed her fingers around one of the spare ecorifles. She brought it to her shoulder and sighted on the rocker ghost. "Freeze, ghost!" she demanded.

"You know what?" The ghost leaned forwards, its green eyes sparkling. "I don't want to. But I _do_ wish you were covered in feathers."

Barely having time to understand the strange reply, Maddie heard a muttered, "So you have wished it…" right before she felt a strange current slide through her. Feathers seemed to appear out of nowhere, sticking to her and the ectorifle like glue.

"Hey," a Yiddish-sounding voice called out, "dose were our feathers!" A chorus of 'yeahs' echoed behind the complaint.

"JACK!" Maddie yelped, twisting around and looking for her husband. Maddie's eyes finally located the large orange shape of Jack standing nose to nose with a ghost dressed all in white, his ectogun nowhere to be seen.

"Get out of my house!" Jack demanded.

"That's not one of the rules," the ghost drawled. "And if it's not in the rulebook, I don't have to do it."

"Nobody messes with Jack-"

The large man's words were cut off as a huge ghost dressed in black armor shimmered into view, its sword inches from his neck. "Evening," the ghost said. "I am the Fright Knight. You will now direct me to the one Princess Dora has named 'Sir Phantom'."

Jack narrowed his eyes, his fists clenching in anger. "No ghost is going to-"

"I wish he couldn't talk." Maddie's head jerked back around at the rocker ghost's second wish, her eyes widening even as a greenish glow appeared around Jack's mouth and a gag formed, suddenly cutting off her husband's words.

"Stop that!" she demanded furiously, sighting the ghost through her ectorifle and pulling the trigger. A blast of feathers shot out the other end, bits of destroyed feathers drifting through the air like snow, before the weapon gave a quite whine of defeat. Maddie snarled a little, dropping the destroyed weapon and grabbing for the feather-covered ectostaff on her belt.

A greenish female spirit ghosted into view next to the rocker ghost, eyes narrowed. "One wish per customer, Ember," the ghost murmured, bangles jingling.

The etostaff blurred to life as Maddie screamed out a challenge. Feathers flying, she launched herself towards the rocker ghost that had attacked her and her husband. At almost precisely the same time, Jack reached out and grabbed the Fright Knight's wrist, wrenching it sideways so the ghost dropped its sword. He twisted and the knight's feet left the ground. The ghost was hurled towards the kitchen cabinets where the heavy armor smashed the flimsy cabinets to pieces, bits of broken plates and cups cascading to the floor around the ghost.

Maddie's ectostaff slammed into Ember's guitar, nearly shattering the instrument. "Get out of my house!" Maddie commanded, following up the words with well-placed strikes with her ectostaff. One of the blows caught Ember's foot and the rocker ghost danced backwards, limping.

Ember glared, the ghost's fingers strumming a chord on its guitar. Energy coalesced into a wave that slammed into Maddie and sent her tumbling. She rolled back to her feet in time to see the rocker ghost's hair flaring in a blue flame that scorched the ceiling and set off the fire alarm. Fingers tight around her staff, Maddie crouched and glanced over at Jack.

Jack Fenton had managed to get his Jack O'Nine Tails out of a pocket and was flailing around with it – hitting ghosts and the kitchen walls with equal regularity. Most of the ghosts were keeping their distance, however, and Maddie turned her attention back to the ghosts crowded around herself.

Freezing a little, Maddie's eyes swept over the mob of ghosts that had formed, most of them apparently just watching and enjoying the show. One ghost was covered with stars, another had a white mask over its face. A third brushed a hand through its red hair and elbowed its greenish companion. Dozens more ghosts, all of them standing and watching, seemingly waiting for some sort of cue.

Maddie's eyes narrowed. There was no way she was letting all these ghosts through her house and out into the world. Not when her children were out there. Her fingers tightened into a fist and her mind raced. All she needed to do was get to the weapon's vault…

Something flickered in the corner of her eye and Maddie twirled around. The greenish Technus was standing over the Jack Fenton Toaster, its eyes glowing. "This is most righteous!" the ghost proclaimed, blue energy coursing around its hands and then all over the toaster. "With this piece of technology, I will create a new world!"

Jack ripped the gag off his head. "MY TOASTER!" he bellowed, the Jack O'Nine Tails whipping around to catch Technus around the waist and drag the ghost backwards. The ghost gave a strangled scream before being yanked into the air and slammed into the Fenton Refrigerator. Jack glowered at the ghost. "Nobody touches my toaster."

"Toast?" The word seemed to catch the attention of most of the ghosts standing in the kitchen. A few of them dug through pockets, pulling out pieces of burned, scorched, and glowing toast – none of them edible. They whispered the word to themselves, pressing forwards. "Where's the toaster?"

Maddie coughed out a feather and got to her feet, ectostaff held at the ready and her eyes widening as the ghosts approached en masse. Fighting them was going to be like stopping the tide from coming in. But she was a Fenton, and Fentons went down fighting.

She was ready to fight, but the ghosts that streamed around her parted like water, moving to both sides and slipping past her. She twisted around to see what had caught their attention, blinking in confusion when the ghosts crowded around the toaster Jack was valiantly trying to defend.

One of the ghosts grabbed the loaf of Jack Fenton-shaped bread, holding it above its head like some sort of trophy. She watched, perplexed, as the other ghosts distracted her husband and grabbed the toaster. The ghosts cheered and started towards the door.

"HEY!" she shouted, pushing herself to action despite her confusion. The ghosts were leaving and they had a stolen Fenton invention with them. Granted it was just a toaster, but a Fenton invention was a Fenton invention. She raced forwards, landing a few blows on the vanishing ghosts as she tried to get to first her husband and then to the toaster.

Jack was following the toaster doggedly, pushing his way through the ghosts to try to get to the one carrying his toaster. He poked and jabbed with his elbows and the butt-end of his Jack O'Nine Tails (the rest of it was tangled… again), but he made no progress. The wave of ghosts pushed him out the back door, into the yard, and the ghosts took to the air.

"GET BACK HERE!" Jack shouted, glaring up at them. "Just wait until I get the Fenton Bazooka! Or the Fenton Crammer! Or…" He waved his fist a few times. "I WANT MY TOASTER BACK!"

Maddie made it out just as the last few ghosts were taking to the air. "Jack," she said, lying her hand on his arm. "We need to turn on the ghost shield before they come back."

Jack glowered at the nearly empty sky for a second longer before scowling and storming back towards the house. "That was my favorite toaster."

"We'll get it back," Maddie said patiently, checking the kitchen carefully for any ghosts left behind before stepping inside. "Let's turn on the ghost shield and then we can make a plan to get rid of the ghosts."

Jack grumbled under his breath as he picked his way through the destroyed kitchen and down into the basement to turn on the ghost shield. Maddie made it to one of the remaining cabinets and pulled open a drawer, taking out a ghost detector and flipping it on. "Where'd they run off to…"

"Mom?"

Maddie blinked and looked up. Her son was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, an almost awed look on his face, two shadowed shapes close behind him. "What's going on?" he asked after a minute.

"Ghosts," Maddie said simply.

"Why are you covered in feathers?"

Reaching up to pick a feather off her forehead, Maddie smiled a little. "Ghosts," she repeated. "But don't worry, Danny, we'll get them back where they belong. I know how much they scare you."

Danny arched an eyebrow, then shrugged. "Whatever you say, Mom. I'm going to a party for awhile – remember I told you about it? I'll be home by curfew!"

Maddie opened her mouth to argue but Danny was already gone, dragging the two shapes behind him. One of the shapes stuck her head through the doorway for a second, revealing her to be a girl in ratted clothes with large blue eyes and messy black hair. The other, shorter shape yanked his hand out of Danny's and actually stepped into the kitchen, pushing back his cowboy hat to get a better view. His green eyes took in the disaster and he snickered loudly before a hand appeared to drag him away.

* * *

**_Danny_**

* * *

Danny Phantom, over the long months of being half ghost, had mostly gotten used to the strange, obsessive ways of the ghosts. But every now and then he came across something that simply didn't make any sense. This was one of those cases.

As he stood there, staring down at Sam's toaster and waiting for the toast to pop up, Danny didn't even try to figure the whole thing out. He knew it was rather pointless – his mind was just too human to comprehend it – so he was just going to roll with it.

If Youngblood wanted to be human for a day, he could go for it. If he wanted a birthday party in the real world (and all the ghosts agreed to play nice for a day), Danny really couldn't do anything about it. He _was_ outnumbered about three-dozen-to-one at the moment, and none of the ghosts had mentioned taking over the world yet.

…If the ghosts wanted a piece of toast to be the official 'invite' to the party of the year…

Well, Danny couldn't figure it out why. All he really knew was that the ghosts weren't going to let him in without a piece of buttered toast in hand. He didn't especially want to go to the young ghost's party, but if three-dozen ghosts were going to show up in one place in Amity Park, Danny was going to be there too. Not to enjoy the party, mind you. It was simply to make sure the party didn't get out of hand and Amity Park stayed un-ghost-infested.

"Is the toast done?"

Danny shook his head and glanced at his companion. Her messy black hair was in a ratty ponytail, her clothes a ragged mess. The girl refused to get any help from him, but Danny didn't bother to argue. He knew exactly why she didn't want his help. "No."

"I want to go to the party!" Dani complained, crossing her arms and glaring at the toaster. "How much longer?"

The toast popped up and Danny twitched the two slices out of the toaster, quickly slathering on some of the offered butter. "Thanks Sam," he said with a harried grin.

Sam had a bemused smile on her face as she sat on her counter, staring at Public Ghost Enemy Number One and his young clone. "How old is Youngblood?"

"Who cares?" Danny muttered.

"Finally!" Dani said, her eyes sparkling as she snatched her slice of toast. "I think I heard he was turning eight for the fiftieth time. I hope there's food."

Danny glanced at her, then rolled his eyes. "Let the torment begin."

Dani vanished through the ceiling, presumably headed towards the party, but Danny held back a moment when Sam touched his shoulder. "You can't fool me," Sam said when they were alone. "You're kind of looking forwards to this."

A skeptical, arched eyebrow over neon-green eyes was her response.

"Oh, come on," she laughed, nudging him with a foot. "You've been ignoring the ghosts all day, basically, when you normally would have chased them to China by now. You've been dragging Youngblood around for hours like a little puppy. _And _I happen to know that you're the one who decorated the place for his party."

"One," Danny retorted, counting things off on his fingers, "Clockwork asked me to be nice to them – this is hardly my idea. Two, of _course_ I've been dragging the brat around for hours. Did you see how much trouble he's been getting in to on his 'I want to be human for a day' wish? And three-"

Danny would have mentioned that _he_ decorated the place only because he'd seen how the ghosts wanted to decorate (and that was never going to happen in _his_ town – not unless it was Halloween and he needed to decorate a haunted house again), but his hand bumped against the slice of toast on the counter, nudging it over the edge. It tumbled through the ground, butter-side… _up_?

"Lucky," Sam said as Danny picked up the bit of toast. "It's really bad luck to have your toast fall butter-side down."

"Yeah." Danny shook his head. "I don't need the bad luck, not today." He grinned up at his best friend. "Thanks for letting me use your toaster!"

Sam shrugged and said, "Don't mention it," but she was saying it to an empty kitchen. She pushed herself off the counter and wandered upstairs, not letting herself wonder why on Earth ghosts had ever started using _toast_ as an invite for parties.

* * *

Paulina Sanchez was walking home from her friend Star's house, her designer clothes freshly laundered and cleaned. The nightmare from that morning seemed to be behind her – she hadn't seen a cupcake since lunch – and now that she was back in her own clothes, she almost felt happy. Surely everything was back to normal for perfect Paulina.

She was just turning the last corner when _something _fell out of the sky to splat against her chest. Paulina froze, then looked down. A black square that looked something like a burned piece of bread stuck to her shirt for a moment before slowly peeling off and tumbling to the ground.

For a long second, Paulina just stared at the huge globs of butter stuck to her shirt. A scream of frustration built up inside of her, but she just stared as a bluish ghost landed in front of her and gingerly scooped up the fallen piece of toast. "I AM THE BOX GHOST!" the spirit bellowed, but it could barely be heard over Paulina's shrieks of terror.

She turned around and raced for home, locked herself in her room, and refused to leave until morning.

* * *

Coach Teslaff chuckled a little to herself as she snuck past the supply room, not even caring to bother why it was such a mess inside. The supply room wasn't her objective.

One of the kids from detention had mentioned to her that Lancer had managed to corner a flying toaster and Teslaff, convinced that she owned the only flying toaster in the world, was determined that it was hers and she would get it back. She peered around the corner of the door, relieved to find the room empty. "You won't get my toaster this easily," she whispered, sneaking into the room and grinning as her hands slid over the sleek slides of her toaster. "My precious," she cooed, "come to Mama."

She carefully undid the knots holding down her beautiful toaster, but before she could get a firm grip on it, the thing floated into the air. "Get back here," she demanded softly, worried that Lancer would return any minute.

The toaster didn't listen. Instead, it floated serenely just out of reach for a moment before zipping towards the window. "No!" Teslaff hissed, lunging for her toaster, but it was too late. In a shattering of glass, the appliance made its second bid for freedom and vanished into the evening sky.

* * *

Valerie still had a headache from being hit on the head by the toaster earlier that day, but at least the buttery smell of torment was gone. She sat on her hoverboard over the city, her helmet in her lap, studying the ends of her hair where it had been burnt earlier that day. When she'd gotten home, her father had instantly noticed and had gone on some tangent about how dangerous ghost hunting was – she never even had the chance to explain what had really happened.

The toaster that had just escaped from Teslaff for a second time whipped past Val's head, missing her by inches. Val flinched, nearly tumbling from her board, her heart beating in her chest. "What's up with toasters today?" she hissed. "They burned my hair and hit me… and now again?"

It crossed her mind that maybe there was a Toaster Ghost out there she'd gotten on the bad side of, but Valerie dismissed that has being a bit ludicrous. That was when her ghost alarm started to blare. Valerie looked down with a grin, studying the screen.

A ghost – a weak one at that. Valerie chuckled, feeling the anticipation of a good hunt, and was about to get to her feet and go after the ghost when she noticed something.

A second ghost appeared on her screen. Then a third, and a forth, and a fifth. "What the…"

She waited, watching, as dozens of ghosts appeared on her radar, all of them headed towards one place – a certain billionaire's mansion. "Mr. Masters!"

* * *

It was a very long day for Danny by the time he landed at the doors of Vlad Master's mansion. The man was gone on vacation for a few days and when Clockwork had shown up with Youngblood's request to have his party in the human world, the empty house had immediately sprung to Danny's mind. It hadn't taken more than fifteen minutes for Tucker to bypass all the security features and it had only been another half-hour to string up enough decorations to appease the young ghost.

"Here," he muttered, tossing his piece of toast onto the pile of charcoaled bread from the other party-goers. "Can I go in now?"

The Fright Knight studied the toasted bread carefully. "Are you sure this is toast?" he finally rumbled.

Danny ground out, "Yes."

"Fine, Sir Phantom. You can enter." The powerful ghost stepped aside and Danny Phantom strolled into the young ghost's fiftieth eighth birthday party, not nearly as tense as a half ghost should be when surrounded by dozens of his archenemies. The room was just as he had left it hours earlier – except now it was teeming with the dead.

Ember strolled up to him. "Nice digs, Dipstick. How'd you get the old fart to agree to this?"

Danny shrugged a little, scanning the crowd for any signs of desires to take over the world. The holidays might have its truce, but he'd never heard of a birthday truce. The ghosts were only on their best behavior because they wanted to be and Danny knew how fast that could change. "Forgiveness, permission, all that," he mumbled.

The grin that split Ember's face would have killed her if she'd still been alive. "Rock on." She downed the glass of juice in her hand, then manifested her guitar and strummed a few chords. "Let's get this party started."

Danny had just enough time to stuff his fingers into his ears before Ember began to wail out her latest hit single, much to the horror of most of the ghosts present at the party. He glanced across the room, catching the eye of his clone. Dani was smiling and laughing, clearly enjoying herself as she played a game of what looked like Pin the Tail on Wulf, and Danny couldn't help but smile too.

Maybe this party wasn't so horrible. If only he could get Ember to shut up for a few minutes.

* * *

Johnny 13 had a whole pile of highly burned toast sitting next to him, but it really wasn't doing him any good. He glared down over the edge of his rock at the swirling Infinite Vortex of Pain. Picking up a piece of toast, Johnny chucked it over the edge, watching it twirl through space before being sucked inside.

He hadn't seen Kitty in hours. And, by now, he was almost positive that the girl had taken off with his motorcycle. "What's taking so long?" he grumbled.

It took a few more minutes and a few more pieces of tossed toast before Shadow raced out of the green abyss, shaking its head. The shadowy creature hadn't seen hide nor hair of his motorcycle anywhere in the Ghost Zone.

Johnny scowled and kicked at the old toaster, watching it teeter over the edge and tumble through the air. "Now I can't go to the party," he complained. "Stupid toaster."

It didn't really care much about the party, but Shadow nodded sympathetically before merging back with Johnny. The bad luck ghost sighed and flung another piece of toast over the edge. There was really no point to keeping it anymore, now that he didn't need it for the party.

Now all he needed was a ride…

* * *

Somewhere down deep, trapped in the Infinite Vortex of Pain, Kitty and Skulker were glaring at each other. "This is all your fault," Kitty argued. "You and your stupid 'hunting'."

"It's not stupid," Skulker muttered, still working on getting his body completely working again. The buttery substance that had worked its way onto his circuit boards was proving nearly impossible to remove. He had control over most of his body, but his right arm was refusing to work properly.

That was when it started to rain toast. Kitty was hit in the head by two pieces before she started to watch for them, dodging the randomly falling bits of bread. "What's going on?" she demanded.

Skulker scowled at her. "How would I know?"

She was about to answer when an old – and familiar-looking – toaster tumbled out of the air and slammed into Skulker's head. Much to the displeasure of the tiny, frog-like ghost inside, Skulker's robotic suit promptly stopped working all over again.

Kitty stared down at the dented head of the ghost hunter, listening to the small ghost trapped inside curse, before crossing her arms over her chest with a huff. "Serves you right," she said ferociously just as one last piece of toast landed, butter-side down, on top of her head.

* * *

"Mom?" Jazz Fenton knew nothing about Youngblood's party – her brother had chosen to keep her in the dark, knowing how she'd feel about it. Since she knew nothing about the evening invasion of ghosts into Amity Park, Jazz had chosen to hide in the library after school was over. The books wouldn't tease her endlessly about the stain on her fingers.

Jazz stepped rather slowly into the kitchen, surveying the damage with an open mouth and a kind of glazed look to her eyes. "What happened here?"

She picked her way through the destroyed kitchen, pushing lightly on the swinging door, before making her way downstairs. Both of her parents were hunched over a computer terminal, gazing intently at the screen. "Mom? Dad?"

"Jazz!" Her mother looked up. "Come look at this!"

"What is it?" She glanced down at the screen, recognizing it as the ghost radar her parents had created several months earlier. There was a huge glowing spot near the edge of the screen. Leaning closer to see what it was, Jazz realized that it wasn't one spot – it was dozens of spots really close together.

Maddie Fenton tapped the screen. "All those ghosts came through our kitchen. Jack and I were going to hunt them down, but look at how they're congregating in one spot like that. We're trying to figure out why."

"Then you'll hunt them down?" Jazz asked, although she really didn't need to. Her parents had a one-track mind.

"Of course, Sweetie." Maddie frowned down at the screen. "They don't belong in our world. We just need to find out why they're here, first."

"Yup," Jack added, almost as an afterthought. "Just another minute or two and we'll be out of here."

Jazz blinked at the screen. "Isn't that Vla…" she trailed off, then narrowed her eyes. "I… have… homework to do." Without another word, she left her parents and stalked towards her room, digging out her cell phone as she went and typing in her brother's number. "Daniel James Fenton. What _are_ you doing?"

* * *

Danny hung up his phone, frowning. He'd managed to keep his sister from stalking over – barely – but he knew that she'd be all over him the second he got home. That wasn't the reason for his frown, though. The fact that his parents knew the ghosts were meeting here and were planning something was kind of troubling.

The party was beginning to head into its second hour and Danny was all for it breaking up and the ghosts heading home. If his parents showed up with guns blazing, they could get hurt. "Dani!" he called over the wail of Ember's songs, although she'd thankfully changed over to the slightly-more-bearable CDs.

"What?" The girl popped into view by his elbow.

"My parents are coming," Danny said, shaking his head and gazing out at the dancing ghosts. He saw his clone wince a little.

"What are you going to do?"

Danny shrugged a little. The safest bet was to scatter all of these ghosts before his parents showed up, but he had no idea how to do it. The assorted spirits were having fun – even Walker, after the bit about the 'how to properly cut the cake' rule was fixed – and Danny had to admit that the party wasn't so horrible. He hadn't seen Youngblood so happy in… ever.

Being the center of attention definitely agreed with the young spirit. Youngblood had spent the better part of an hour showing off his 'human' body, then had taken some time to open and gloat over the strange-looking presents he'd ended up receiving. After cutting the cake and stuffing himself full, the boy had collapsed into a chair and was simply watching the happy partygoers with sleepy, half-closed eyes.

With no real reason to stop the party early, Danny leaned back against one of the walls and crossed his arms, thinking. What he needed was an excuse. Or some epically good luck when he asked these guys to leave-

A whine alerted Danny instants before the window in the corner shattered, a red-suited Valerie on a hoverboard throwing herself into the party. Energy blazed as she started to shoot at random ghosts. "Get out of Mr. Master's home!" she screamed, charging something that looked dangerously like a small explosive.

Danny blinked at her, then looked around the room. The party was clearing out and for a second, Danny grinned. What lucky timing! This was a perfect excuse to-

"Phantom."

Berating himself for not paying attention, Danny looked up into the glowing barrel of Val's favorite weapon. "Dani," he said, not taking his eyes off the hunter-girl, "get Youngblood out of here."

The messy-haired girl on the other side of the room nodded and grabbed the young boy, who was just starting to catch onto what was happening. Before any real protest could be made, the two were gone.

"Throwing a party in Mr. Master's mansion, huh?" Valerie sneered. "You're going to pay for that, spook."

"As usual," Danny said with a sigh, "you ignore a dozen other ghosts and focus on _me_. Why is that again?"

"You're evil. You ruined my life!"

Danny rolled his eyes. "Of course. How could I forget?"

Val snarled, her finger tightening on the trigger of her gun. Danny decided not to hang around anymore and slipped backwards through the wall, hearing the zap of her weapon take a chunk out of the wall he'd just been leaning against. He didn't waste any time, taking to the air. It was only a few second before the familiar whine of Val's hoverboard was on his tail.

He twisted towards town, ready to give Val a run for her money, a put on a burst of speed. With the furious hunter on his tail, Danny flashed over the spot where Dani was dragging a protesting Youngblood further from his presents.

* * *

Dash Baxter refused to look anywhere but at the two feet that were carrying him towards his soft and warm bed. Practice had been horrific – after ending up in the mud _seven_ times and having to endure endless bad renditions of 'Dash went _splash_', he'd ended up getting on the coach's bad side and had been picked to be the one to stay after and clean up the locker room. And to top it all off, Dash's car had refused to start, meaning the athlete was forced to walk home. All in all, the young football star wanted nothing more than to go to sleep and have the day be over.

Not looking up, Dash never saw Phantom and the Red Huntress whiz overhead. He also never saw the young girl fighting tooth and nail to keep an even younger boy headed away from Vlad Master's house, despite the fact that they were only on the other side of the street.

No, Dash's mind was completely focused on how horribly practice had gone and whom he could possibly blame for it. Fenton was a good target, as always, but Dash couldn't figure out a reason to blame the loser. He didn't really _need _a reason… but the torment meant more with one than without one.

He also never saw the Fenton Family Ghost Assault Vehicle careen around a corner. The roar of the engine made him finally glance up just in time to see the GAV jump the curb slightly and pass by too close for comfort. The vehicle zoomed right through the same puddle that had splashed Paulina some ten hours earlier, sending a wave of water in Dash's direction.

He didn't even bother to duck. He just closed his eyes, depressingly, and felt the cold water slam into him. "I'm going to kill Fenton," he whispered as the GAV disappeared around another corner in the general direction of the Master's mansion. The words made him feel a little better.

Not much, but a little.

* * *

The ghost of the Lunch Lady was still locked in a Fenton Thermos that had been kicked under Danny's bed, much to her delight. While most ghosts considered the cramped space to be an unlucky sort of torment, the Lunch Lady was well aware of the horrors that she could have been facing out in the world. She was more than content to wait out the unlucky day inside Phantom's Thermos, so long as Phantom didn't forget she was there.

* * *

Lancer eventually worked his way back to the school, gazing around nervously for the blue-skinned ghost that had chased him through the building, intent on nothing more than collecting his car keys and locking up the school so he could go home. He needed a shower and a change of clothes, if nothing else.

Cautiously making his way through the school, Lancer checked through every open door to make sure he was alone. When he finally made it to his office, he quickly shut down his computer and grabbed his coat and car keys, fully intending for his next stop to be the relatively safety of his car.

That was when he noticed the broken window. Lancer blinked at it for a moment, then turned his attention to the ropes that used to be holding Teslaff's flying toaster in place. His eyes drifted back to the window, then he sighed. He really should do something about it.

But it was a second floor window… and there was drying paint and glue peeling on his skin. The desire to get out of the haunted school and get a shower won rather handily. Lancer decided to take care of it tomorrow. He threw on his coat and settled his keys into his pocket.

Lancer made it back to his car without any issue, keeping far away from the shadowy form of Teslaff walking through the parking lot. He didn't need her to see him covered in paint.

The teacher quickly pulled away from the school, thinking that the worst of his bad luck was over. He quickly changed his mind, however, when a roaring Fenton van nearly drove him off the road. Lancer slammed on the brakes, his car half on the sidewalk and half on the road, then sat there and waited for his heart to start beating normally again, his fingers tight around the steering wheel.

"Parking on the sidewalk is against the rules," came a sour, echoing voice.

Lancer blinked and looked out his window. Glowing eyes against white, bony skin stared back calmly at him. "Ghost," Lancer whispered.

His foot found the gas pedal almost without thought and Lancer roared down the street. He made it home in record time (breezing through two red lights) and slammed the door behind him. Like several of his students, Lancer had no desire to leave his home again.

* * *

Maddie and Jack Fenton jumped out of the van at the front door of Vlad Master's mansion, their weapons already drawn. "Vladdy!" Jack called, storming towards the front door. "I'm here to rescue you!"

Maddie wasn't quite as quick as her husband to run to Vlad's rescue, but she was right behind Jack when he kicked at the front door. Jack yelped in pain when his foot hit the door, bouncing backwards and limping a little. "Jack," Maddie chided slightly, twisting the doorknob and pushing the door open.

The two hunters stormed into the room, their guns raised as they surveyed the nearly empty room. When they saw no ghosts, both lowered their weapons slowly and turned their attention to the two human children crouched in the center of the room.

The first, a younger boy with brilliant green eyes, was digging through a pile of things on the ground. The older looking girl, her disheveled black hair pulled back in a ponytail, seemed to be frozen in the act of pulling on the boy's shirt. She stared at them with wide blue eyes.

"What are you two doing in here?" Maddie demanded.

"We gotta go," the girl hissed, but the boy was paying no attention.

Jack took a step forwards. "Did you see where the ghosts went?"

The girl shook her head, yanking on the boy's shirt. "Youngblood," she snapped.

"My presents," the boy complained, grabbing a few in his hands and holding them close to his chest. "I get to keep them!"

The two adults were about to press the issue when something out of the ordinary happened. The boy, who had just gotten to his feet, started to glow. Maddie and Jack blinked at each other, their hands tightening on their weapons. "What's-"

"Aw…" Youngblood moaned. "Already?"

Somewhere deeper in Vlad's house, a clock chimed eight o'clock. The young ghost's eyes blazed green as his wish to be human came to a conclusion. For only a fraction of a second, the Fentons could see Youngblood as the ghost he really was before he faded from view from their eyes.

The two adults were still standing there, a little stunned, as the girl scowled. Then, without even glancing in their direction, she vanished as well, leaving the two humans standing alone in the destroyed house with their mouths falling open in surprised shock.

* * *

Hours later, Danny had long since lost Valerie and had chased the last of the ghosts back through the Fenton Portal. He had returned to Vlad's house and stood in the doorway of the empty room that had held the ghostly birthday party. The place looked like hurricane had gone through, leaving almost nothing untouched. One of the old-looking armchairs was even stuck to the _ceiling_, although Danny really had no clue how or why it had gotten there.

He really _did_ debate cleaning up a little before he left, but then he remembered Vlad's latest attempt to steal his mother and kill his father and decided that Vlad could clean it up himself. Before he left, however, Danny took the pile of forgotten toast and carefully set pieces up around the room. Buttered bits of burned toast teetered on the edges of tables, waited on cushions, and perched on windowsills and shelves as Danny finally took to the air to make sure all the ghost shad found their way back to the Ghost Zone.

Hopefully Vlad would bump into a piece or two (or twelve) when he got home. Because, as everyone knows, it's horribly bad luck if a piece of toast falls butter-side down.


End file.
